


Mostly Satisfied

by ms45



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Kossith, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/pseuds/ms45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke cracks one out whilst on guard duty. Never a good idea, that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mostly Satisfied

Hawke started as a glowing hand shook him out of a shallow sleep. “Hwgha!” The hand clamped over his mouth.

“It is your turn to stand guard.” Fenris pulled his gauntleted hand away, plucking some of Hawke’s beard hairs on the way. Hawke hissed in pain, and struggled to sit up, rubbing his face. He had been sleeping shallowly, enduring an odd dream in which Gamlen had been demanding something of him, and he had been trying to find it, but it was never specified what the thing was, only that it was urgent and very important, and his house was redesigned so that things were about five feet away from where they usually were and disguised as something else. Long story short, he hadn’t slept enough.

Stiff and cold, he lurched to his feet, casting about for his daggers. The party were camped on the Wounded Coast, hunting a Qunari splinter group on behalf of some dipshit who wanted to suck up to the Arishok. Hawke, personally, had no beef with any Qunari, and even less desire to get involved in their political shenanigans. But, as the saying went, he was young and he needed the money, so here he was at bullshit o’clock in the morning having his beard pulled out by a hot but damaged elf to stand guard in case the oxmen came after them with their spears. Hawke was very specific about how he wanted to be speared by oxmen, and it definitely didn’t involve actual spears.

Hawke settled down on a rock with a complete view of the mountain surrounds and a surprisingly comfortable arse groove. Fenris emitted a goodnight grunt and folded himself into Hawke’s sleeping roll.

The evening - really, the early morning, the deepest dark before the crickets and birds began crackling and shouting - was sensually perfect, exactly body temperature with a smell of the ocean and grass wafting up from the beach. Occasionally a rabbit or bird would bounce across Hawke’s peripheral vision. He noted it without panic, taking in his surrounds mindfully and without emotion.

As it became clear that his companions were firmly asleep, the fine hairs on Hawke’s neck began to stand up, not because of any danger but simply from being aware of the night and the mountain and the sea. As his eyes adjusted to the light offered by the dying embers of their campfire, he could see every star in the night, in a totally cloudless sky.

Aware of every crackle, every peep, every twinkle, Hawke’s blood rushed to his groin. He had long accepted that there were environmental conditions under which he would inevitably spring an inconvenient erection, and these were perfect. Perfect temperature, perfect surrounds, perfect need to stay completely alert at risk of life and limb. He shifted around to get more comfortable.

Jerk off, or not? On one hand (ha ha), he needed to be completely alert - he was confident of his group’s ability to take on a much larger group of kossith if he had the advantage of surprise, but equally confident that they were up shit creek if the oxmen had the advantage. On the other, his erection was taking up more and more of his concentration, which suggested that if he got rid of it, he would be more effective at keeping guard.

Decision made, Hawke wriggled his leathers carefully over his arse. The night was so silent that even the slightest drag sounded like a gong in his ears, and it felt like it took an hour to get them down to his thighs. The very thought that he might have to leap into battle with his cock out made him even harder, but he kept them to a point where he could pull them up easily if needed. Flipping his armoured skirt over his belly, he licked his fingers and began stroking the underside of his cock gently, slowly, and most important of all, quietly.

He liked the challenge of beating off whilst still being alert to his surroundings. He breathed carefully through his mouth, turning his head from side to side like an owl, even as he fingered the eye of his penis and imagined his moistened fingers to be Fenris’ tongue. His other hand reached down to his groin to caress his balls, and why not imagine that to be Isabela’s long, weather-beaten fingers stroking the ridge between the testicles? If he ever wanted to make this a reality, Isabela would definitely be up for it - Fenris he was unable to fathom.

Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, Hawke circled his fingers around the head of his penis and rotated them, imagining Fenris’ full, sensuous lips applying just enough pressure, his moans sending vibrations the length of Hawke’s cock whilst Isabela ran her fingers softly towards his arse. Maybe he would have her give Fenris a hand shandy as well… a bird called and Hawke jumped, then twisted around in his seat to look behind him. Nothing.

Better make this quick, then. Hawke gripped himself tightly and began a fast, rhythmic slap - onetwothree rest. Onetwothree rest. Onetwothree rest… Isabela was now pegging Fenris from behind and leaning forward to lick Hawke’s shaft, a position that would have been awkward to impossible in real life, but screw real life. Onetwothree rest, onetwothree… now Fenris was tonguing Hawke’s gaping hole while Isabela sucked his cock, not missing a beat as she pounded Fenris’ arse with her tool… so close… what?

Hawke gradually slowed down, not believing his eyes. His rogue senses, in the throes of ecstasy, had failed him utterly. A single giant kossith stood right in front of him, only metres away, impassively watching him masturbate.

Hawke said nothing, still not quite believing what he saw. Was the big oxman alone? It seemed so, but then he had appeared out of nothing, and how many more might appear out of nothing? They could be surrounded by Tal-Vashoth and Hawke would never know. He cursed himself and his cock, which remained blithely hard as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

The kossith, who had been staring at Hawke’s face, seemed to frown a little as he glanced downwards to Hawke’s now-still hands. Hawke looked around the mountain for any signs of the Tal-Vashoth’s squadmates, but if they were about, they were very well hidden.

Hawke made eye contact with the kossith, making a motion for him to step forward ( _oh nice work, good to see we’re thinking with the proper brain here_ ). The kossith shook his head, just the tiniest bit, and made a sort of wave motion to indicate that Hawke should continue.

Well, if that’s how it’s going to be… Hawke was well aware that there was a high possibility that the kossith was trying to distract him to create an opening for his merry band to jump them, and he (or his cock) didn’t care. A show you want, a show you will get.

Hawke pulled his leathers right down to allow himself to spread his legs, wondering if any of his party would wake up and not caring. He slowwwwwwwly licked his hand and began pulling his cock with long, slurping strokes. Never dropping eye contact, Hawke brought his non-jerking hand up and sucked on his middle finger, opening his mouth to swirl it around his tongue, then using the spit to finger his arsehole. Thoughts of Isabela and even Fenris were utterly forgotten as Hawke replaced them both with the oxman, pants opened to show what must surely be a terrifyingly huge cock, using his clawed fingers to scratch Hawke’s thighs gently but noticeably leaving marks. The oxman in Hawke’s head stroked his own hammer, timed to match Hawke’s thrusts, gripping Hawke’s hairy, muscular thighs…

In reality, the oxman continued to stare at him impassively. Andraste’s arse, what the fuck did the bastard want? He wasn’t even hard. Hawke lifted his legs to give his silent audience a better view of his fingers tickling, then thrusting into his twitching hole. In his head, Hawke now had the kossith thrusting solidly into him while caressing his nipples with those talons, holding Hawke’s legs with a firm grip.

A tight, pulling sensation running the length of his penis and down through his groin indicated that Hawke was nearly ready to come. He upped the ante, to the extent that there was an ante, by bringing Fenris and Isabela back into the pictures in his head, Fenris sucking and pulling while Isabela opened her dripping, fuzzy pussy over Hawke’s face, tugging away from his tongue to delay her own imaginary orgasm. As sharp spurts of come pulsed out of Hawke’s cock, he fantasised that Isabela was spurting juice all over his face while Fenris had climbed onto his cock and was riding it and the oxman was fucking Hawke’s arse and pulling Fenris’s cock at the same time, caressing the elf’s nipple with his free hand.

OK. Hawke’s heart pounded, his legs heavy and stiff from coming and from keeping them raised up, and he licked the cum off his hand whilst daring the oxman to react. He pushed himself to his feet and began pulling his pants up, staggering towards the oxman with no clear plan in mind. His daggers were on his back, but other than that, the kossith was nearly twice his size, and hadn’t just had an explosive orgasm. Quite the tactical advantage, that.

The kossith’s only reaction was to hold his hand up in a stop motion. Gesturing to a copse to the west of the camp, he brought his hand up to his throat and made the universal slash to indicate throat-cutting. Hawke peered at the trees, but couldn’t see a fucking thing. Turning back, the lone kossith was already disappearing in the opposite direction.

Light was starting to creep over the horizon. Hawke kicked dirt over the remaining embers of their cooking fire and made sure his leathers and armour were back in place. He held a hand over Fenris’ mouth before waking him, and was snarkily amused at Fenris’ spluttering as they both realised Hawke still had a bit of cum on his hands.

“I suppose you have woken me to advise that owing to your idiocy we are now under attack?” hissed Fenris, trying to wriggle into his armour.

“I had a tip-off, OK? Shhhhh.”

They prodded their companions awake – oh how Hawke loved teaming Fenris with mages – and, at Hawke’s silent gesturing, began to take the long way around to the copse, so as not to show their silhouettes against the rising sun.

It may have been a trap – Hawke knew too little of Qunari politics to fathom why one oxman would double-cross another – but if he was about to die, he would at least die mostly satisfied. 

**Author's Note:**

> So there was discussion on Tumblr about whether Masturbation Week was a thing, and I demanded a character in my ask. In about two seconds Freckles04 had responded "M!Hawke, why not. Bonus if there's a campfire involved. *snickers*". This is my first smutfic - how'd I do?


End file.
